


Time stops (The search begins anew)

by TheSoggySchuyler4



Series: Through the universe, and back home to you (Dousy Week Collection) [6]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agent Carter Spoilers, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Please Read Notes for TWs, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoggySchuyler4/pseuds/TheSoggySchuyler4
Summary: The first time two soulmates profess their love for each other, they are sent spiralling back in time. Their task? To prevent their soulmate from dying before they can meet. With two Shield agents thrown into the mix, that task can get a little more complicated.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Series: Through the universe, and back home to you (Dousy Week Collection) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029105
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Time stops (The search begins anew)

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: Suicide/Self-harm references, suicidal thoughts, death (strongly implied), child abuse, rape, war
> 
> There may be more that I haven't explicitly listed, so please read with caution.

**1918 (new-born)**

A baby unmoving. A couple sobbing. Nurses stand in silence.

She’s here for a reason. What is it? The baby? Her fingers ghost his lips.

The baby squirms. Curious eyes stare up.

“He’s alive! The baby’s alive! Call the doctor!”

The world spins away.

**1926 (8)**

Dark eyes. Curly brown hair parted neatly to the side. Toothy smile.

A bag fallen into the road. A woman scrambling for her groceries.

“Are you alright miss?”

A little boy hurries forward. The car comes out of nowhere.

She grabs his jacket. Pulls him out of the way.

She falls.

**1929 (11)**

Boys yelling. The little one in the back shuffles. Stolen sweets make the rounds. He trembles, shakes his head.

“It’s wrong.” He mumbles. The other boys scoff. The littlest one slips away, counts out the coins he can’t spare. Presses them into the shopkeeper’s hand.

“It’s wrong.” He repeats.

He swears he sees a familiar face smile at him as he turns to go.

She leaves the amount on the kitchen counter. Adds a few extra pennies for good measure, and a couple of sweets. He won’t go hungry tonight.

Something tugs at her stomach and she is gone.

**1933 (15)**

Pressed suit. Nervous cough. The man’s hand clasped on his shoulder.

“You’ll do great, son.”

Straightened back. Proud but strained smile. The woman’s hands tremble.

“Just do your best, son.”

He works hard, loading crates. A truck tilts. The load goes flying. He tries to move, but someone is already yanking him to safety.

The boy- practically a young man- looks up. There’s a woman watching him. She nods once, lifts a hand, and vanishes.

He blinks.

He gets back to work.

She drops to her knees. The boy. It’s him, it’s him. She has to save him. Has to, has to-

**1941 (23)**

An ill-fitting uniform. Leering faces. Prodding hands.

“Yes, you’ll do.” The doctor announces. A whisper in his ear.

“Stay alive. You have to stay alive.”

He turns, staring at the empty space.

She weeps in the dark. She can’t save all of him. Not all of him. Not the-

**1944 (26)**

The bombs deafen. Guns crack from all sides. He keeps his head low. Mike Stephens yells from one side.

He doesn’t look so cruel in the thick of the fight.

He just looks scared.

Too close. That one comes to close. The pain flares. He screams. Arms grab at him. Strong arms, muscular.

They remain in the bomb crater, breathing heavily. Press useless hands to useless limbs. Pray for the gunfire to end. The cold sets in. So cold. So, _so_ cold. Better to die fighting, he thinks, than to the cold.

“We are going home.”

Over and over again.

“We are going home.”

Mike’s voice fades in and out. He swears at one point it stops for good, and a woman’s takes over. She sings softly, presses a kiss to his forehead. He imagines it’s his mother, wishes her to safety.

“We are going home, Agent Sousa.”

He has no idea why she calls him an agent.

His eyes close. She leaves his side, turns to his comrade. The name escapes her, but she presses a hand to his wound. Tries his pulse. Beats his chest. Again, and again.

“Wake up.”

She knows how this one ends. She tries anyway.

She is snatched away.

**1946 (28)**

She blinks, confused. Wasn’t that it? He’s alive. She kept him alive.

There’s more.

A baby’s pram. A Cinema Theatre. Bodies strewn across seats.

He’s choking.

She moves towards him, but he fights. He fights and he tries to kill, and she reacts. She hits him. He crumbles.

She sobs alone. She hit him. She hit him. She swore she would never, and she hit him. She hit him. She-

A hospital bed. He sleeps. He’ll be fine. He will. She finds earbuds in her hand. Slips them into his jacket pocket. He must need them. She can still keep him safe.

**1947 (29)**

A dark house. A frantic call.

A shadow blocks the light.

She opens her mouth to warn him.

She’s too late.

She sends them packing. He groans on the floor.

She stitches him up, presses a kiss to his forehead.

He blinks blearily up at her.

“Carter?”

She is gone before she can tell him her name.

**1955 (37)**

Oh, she knows this one. She was here for this one.

She watches from a distance, sets the scenes in motion.

She thinks he sees her, for a moment.

He pauses, opens his mouth to ask, but Coulson captures his attention.

She is gone when he looks again.

He is dead when she appears again.

She slips past Elena, cursing her loss of speed. Past Jemma, desperately scanning the computers. Past May, studying her hands with a glazed expression. Past Deke, and Coulson, each longing for something they cannot have. Past Mack, dozing at the kitchen bar.

She whispers his name. Promises that she loves him.

“We’ll be fine.” She tells him softly, “We’ll meet again.”

As she presses one last kiss to his lips, she knows that her words are the truth.

* * *

**1989 (9 months)**

He stumbles, leg giving way beneath him.

The ground is uneven, and he gags looking down. A mutilated hand crushed beneath his foot.

A baby sniffles from amongst the massacre. She watches him with wide eyes, blood staining her skin.

He knows this baby. Knows this story. He has to keep her safe.

He holds her to his chest. Waits for Shield to arrive.

A bullet lands.

Another.

Then another.

He feels none of it.

Only her.

She lets out a whimper. He holds her closer.

“It’s alright Daisy. You make it past this part.”

The agents arrive. He holds her out to them.

“Keep her safe. Keep her hidden.”

He closes his eyes. Feels the world shift beneath him.

**1996 (8)**

She never told him this one. Never explained the scars that marred her back.

But he sees the whip and he knows.

He wonders what makes today different.

Why is today a brush with death?

He can smell the alcohol on the man’s breath, see it in his unsteady gait. Understands.

She crouches behind the sofa, hands shaking. There are tears streaming down her face and he longs to brush them away.

She’s so tiny. God, how could anyone want to hurt her?

He feels the gun in his hand. Resists for as long as he can.

He glimpses his clothing in the mirror. A police officer. He knows what happens next.

The man lifts a fist. He lifts his gun.

She screams.

He never heard her scream before.

He turns towards her, reaches to stroke her cheek.

He is pulled away.

**1999 (11)**

He’s confused.

Studies the computer in his arms. Looks to the sniffling girl in the corner.

How does this save her?

He understands fighting. Understands protecting her from danger.

He remembers what she had told him. How hacking had saved her life on countless occasions.

He leans over, carefully. Not too close. Never invading her space.

“I bet you,” He tells her, recalling what she had said, “that you can’t hack into this computer.”

She blinks, tilts her head.

“I’ve been reading coding books.” She offers, shyly.

“Then,” He hedges, “I’ll give you this computer if you succeed.”

She does it.

He’s so proud.

He’ll wait to tell her that, though. Wait until she’s old enough to understand his praise.

He hands her the computer. Tells her to keep practicing.

She wrinkles her nose.

“You sound like my boring teachers.”

He opens his mouth to retort.

He doesn’t get the chance.

**2003 (15)**

This is the worst one. He prays it gets no worse than this.

He carries her, sobbing, from the house.

The half-naked man stumbles from her bed, cursing after them.

“He said he’d kill me.” She cries.

He closes his eyes.

“I’ll never let that happen.”

A part of him wonders why she doesn’t remember this.

He knows she has erased this from her mind.

**2012 (23)**

New York is in pieces. He trips and falls, scrambles for solid footing.

Screams burn in his ears, reminding him of another war, another battle.

Bombs instead of aliens. A field, instead of a city.

He doesn’t see her at first.

There are too many people.

The dust blurs his vision.

Is that… Captain America?

Daisy had told him that he’d survived but-

A scream.

One he is far too familiar with.

A falling bridge.

He knocks her out of the way just in time.

**2014 (26)**

He had thought that hearing Daisy scream would be the worst sound he had ever encountered, but this is worse.

The quiet gasp, the look of horror. The way her words die in her throat.

The light in her eyes fades so rapidly he’s certain he must have failed.

He presses his hands to her stomach, wills the blood to stay inside.

Prays her team finds her soon.

He shifts her to near the door, whispers gentle assurances.

Tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

He is gone for Coulson can reach the final step.

**2016 (28)**

His heart sinks when he sees her in the pub.

Her eyes are drawn, hands loosely clutching her fourth, maybe fifth drink.

The bartender has begun to look concerned but doesn’t refuse her request for another.

He slides into the seat beside her, eyes the bottle of pills she fingers in her pocket.

“Don’t.”

Blood-shot eyes glance his way.

“I want it all to stop.” She tells him. “You can’t tell me not to do it, Mr Guardian Angel.”

Some part of her remembers, then. He nods.

“I’m here to remind you.”

He tells her what he can remember. Stories she told him, of the better moments. Of pranks, and board games. Of impromptu snowball fights. Of late-night video games, turned to mid-morning pancakes. Of her family, praying for her safe return. Of how much they love her.

When he is done, she thinks for a moment.

“No promises.” She tells him. She gives him the pills.

He looks her in the eye.

“Your story doesn’t end here.”

**2017 (29)**

He’s relieved at the loss of the black hair.

She’s not quite there yet. Far from it, in fact.

The hair is proof that it’s improving, though (He learnt that from Jemma).

There’s a man holding her still, silvery tentacles that remind him of Black matter clawing at her skin.

She studies her gauntlet, eyes so sad, so lost.

She looks right at him.

“He’ll die if I do it.” She says.

“You’ll die if you don’t.” He counters.

She tilts her head.

“Isn’t that better?”

“Not for the people who love you. Not for him. They’re already starting to mourn him. Don’t let them mourn you too.”

A tentacle tightens around her throat, and she begins to struggle a little more.

“I never remember you.” She says suddenly.

He wants to scream. Wants to beg her to just do it already. He hates to see her in this much pain.

“Not until you’re here.”

“You’ll see me again soon. I promise.”

Something in her relaxes.

“Just a little longer?”

He nods.

“Just a little longer.”

He doesn’t get to watch her win, but he knows she did. She always does.

**1955**

He doesn’t know who she is, this girl in his office. She acts like she belongs there, though, and some niggling part of his mind says that she does, so he checks the sign on the door.

He lifts an eyebrow. Wonders why she seems so familiar to him. Takes another step forward.

“Who the hell are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> One thing I want to clarify, In case I haven't made it clear in the fic: the 'time travellers' appear at the points in whatever clothing/style makes most sense. For example, Daisy is always wearing period-typical clothing so never looks out of place, and Daniel ends up in police uniform on a few occasions so no one questions his presence.
> 
> Also, if anyone is confused about why Daniel seems to figure it out faster than Daisy, it's just because the things she's told him include what happened with her parents at the beginning, whereas Daniel either didn't know, or didn't consider it important that they thought he was going to die when he was a baby.


End file.
